


All of the Dreamers

by TRASHCAKE



Series: The Sunshine State [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Australia, Alternate Universe - High School, Explicit Language, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, The power of friendship, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 07:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15286737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TRASHCAKE/pseuds/TRASHCAKE
Summary: Mark deals with homicidal birds, inconvenient public transport and the stress of upcoming graduation. His newfound feelings for Donghyuck only complicates things.





	All of the Dreamers

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a vaguely 2014 time period, back when Passiontree was still in the CBD. I still miss their honey bread. 
> 
> Based on [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DhKAhyP8qKI) song by Powderfinger, because they're as iconically Brisbane as the Brisbane River.

\-------

Brisbane Boy’s College. An upstanding school with a fine tradition of education, sport and the arts. Where boys become men, future leaders are cultivated and--- 

“Fucking plovers!” 

\--- aggressive, territorial birds build nests on the cricket pitch. 

Mark collapses on the ground in a fit of hysterical laughter. Safely by the edges of the oval, he’s free to watch as Donghyuck taunts the poor birds, running along the flattened centre of the cricket field as the plovers circle above him. 

“He’s insane,” Jeno comments as Donghyuck attempts to deter the birds with his hat. 

“He’s a fucking legend,” Jaemin corrects, filming the whole thing. No doubt the footage will end up on all of his social media accounts by the end of the day. 

“I feel like I’m in primary school, again,” Chenle sighs. Pauses. Produces an almost perfect imitation of a plover’s call. 

The enraged birds double their swooping efforts and Donghyuck _shrieks_.

“You’re not old enough to reminisce,” Jaemin loops an arm around Chenle’s shoulder, leading them both out of the sun and into the shade of a Jacaranda tree. “Wasn’t primary school like, last year?” 

“Get fucked,” Chenle ducks out of the embrace. “I’m literally a year younger than you.” 

“They grow up so fast,” Jeno fake sniffles, pauses, sneezes. Unprompted, Jaemin rummages around in his bag for the antihistamines he knows Jeno always needs but never carries with him.

“Nothing in this world brings me more joy than Jeno’s allergies,” Chenle grins, “they show up whenever he deserves to sneeze.”

“So you’re saying Jeno’s allergic to his own bullshit?” Mark laughs, shouldering his way into the shade. 

Trees, as it were, are dangerous to have in the middle of sports fields. Hence why there aren’t many of them within Mark’s vicinity and why the shade they offer is so minimal. Of course, he could always retreat to the protection of the surrounding buildings but the walkways are full. Students bustling along paths as they leave school at the end of the day.

“More like I’m allergic to you lot,” Jeno mumbles. 

“As if,” Jaemin replies flippantly. “We’re the sickest cunts in this shithole.” 

“I lose ten years from my life whenever Jaemin talks like that,” Chenle sighs, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. “I’ll be dead within the week, tell my mother I love her.”

“Oi cunts, time’s up!” Donghyuck yells from his position on the cricket pitch, his uniform-regulated hat waving frantically in the air. The plovers dive with increasing ferocity as Donghyuck tries to flee. 

“Dumbass,” Mark sighs fondly. His life would be far less interesting without Donghyuck around, that’s for sure. 

“I can’t believe he did it,” Jaemin scowls, breaking out into a leisurely jog in Donghyuck’s direction. They bet he wouldn’t last five minutes without injury from a swooping plover and it sounds like he succeeded. 

Donghyuck flicks the group a well-aimed middle finger as Chenle repeats his bird call. 

“You’re eerily good at that,” Jeno comments, squinting at Chenle suspiciously. 

“Jisung’s scared of plovers,” Chenle grins salaciously. 

“He’s a tiny sociopath, but he’s _our_ tiny sociopath,” Jeno wrestles Chenle into a one-armed hug. 

“I’m pretty sure he’s just an asshole,” Mark replies, “also let him go, you’re suffocating him.” 

Chenle breaks free of the embrace, begins babbling about Mark being the only sane one in the group, before swearing at him for the asshole comments. 

“I’m alive,” Donghyuck screeches as he falls onto the grass at Mark’s feet. He rolls around for a few seconds before attempting to untie Mark’s shoelaces. He’s met with a gentle kick to the shoulder. 

“I can’t believe we owe him money,” Jaemin sighs, pulling a five dollar note from his wallet and pressing it into Donghyuck’s hands. 

“Make it rain, fuckers,” he giggles from the ground. Jeno and Mark throw their offerings at him passive-aggressively, the purple notes fluttering onto the grass. 

“Are you sure?” Chenle smiles, “because I’m paying in coins.” 

Mark has never seen anyone move so fast. Donghyuck springs from the ground as Chenle pulls the 20c pieces from his pockets. They run back onto the oval, laughter audible as Donghyuck gets hit with coin after coin. 

“They’re actually insane,” Jeno comments. 

“They’re about to get swooped again,” Jaemin adds with a yawn. 

The plovers resume their screeching and swooping as Chenle and Donghyuck dart around the oval, loud and carefree. 

It’s August. 

Mark’s just had his birthday. School officially ends in a few short months. 

As Donghyuck and Chenle return to the safety of the Jacaranda tree, he can’t help but wonder: 

Just how much of this will change?

\------

Jacarandas are nicknamed _Flame Trees_ because of their vibrant orange flowers, small enough to look like tiny flames on the end of branches. Which is fitting, considering their summertime blossoming period and the time-honoured Australian tradition of bushfires. 

While the Brisbane spring is certainly hotter than it should be, it’s not enough to coax the tree into an early bloom, so it’s the leaves, not the petals, that fall into Donghyuck’s hair as he converses with Jeno. 

It’s a shame, really. A shower of bright flowers around a group of students as they laze about after school. It would make for a pretty scene, something straight out of a movie. 

“How’s QCS prep going?” Mark takes his whole foot, shoves it into his mouth and ruins such a serene moment. 

The Queensland Core Skills test takes place at the end of September, meaning they’re down to a single digit week count before the biggest exam of their lives. Even after three years of mock-testing and preparation, no one really seems ready for it. 

“The fact that I have to rely on you fuckwits for a good OP is gonna send me grey,” Jaemin sighs. He flicks a leaf from his collar. 

Mark can tell that he’s downplaying his stress, but out of all of them, he’s the one with the most to lose. Getting into bio-med is easy, but considering it’s the stepping stone to medicine means that the competition is fierce. He’s going to need the best grades possible and unfortunately, the QCS results are a group effort. 

If most people do well, the whole class gets a better OP score. If most people do badly, they’ll drop. It can mean the difference between making it into university and not. 

Jaemin, understandably, is petrified. 

Mark, on the other hand, is lucky. 

He’s already at university. 

Through pulled strings and impressive skills, Mark is one year into an IT degree at the Queensland University of Technology. Splitting the workload of both the final year of school and the first year of university over a two year period, Mark’s future is set. A roundabout way of entering university, sure. But it beats the stress of study, worrying about OPs and constantly refreshing his Gmail account once the course offers are released. 

“If Mark doesn’t bring a calculator to QCS, then I’m throwing him off the CityCat,” Donghyuck threatens like his own choice in degree isn’t audition based. But the attempt at reviving the mood is still there, and it’s appreciated. 

Jaemin manages to crack a small smile.

“I’d like to see you try,” Mark retorts, “you throw me into the river and I’ll take you with me.”

“Did you hear,” Chenle begins excitedly, “that someone went swimming in the Brisbane River and ended up with hepatitis?” 

Jeno and Jaemin interject, calling him out for believing in such an old urban legend, before debating the actual toxicity of the iconic Brisbane landmark. 

Schoolyard rumours spread by excited school boys. 

It’s hard to believe that it’s almost over. 

“Hey,” Donghyuck says quietly, “Indro after school?” 

Mark has homework. Donghyuck should be practising his audition piece. There are so many things they _should_ be doing, and going to Indro isn’t one of them. 

“I’ll shout you a Frozen Coke?” he pushes, waving one of his victory fivers in Mark’s face. 

Damn it. Donghyuck knows him too well, knows exactly what his weaknesses are.

“Deal,” Mark replies. 

Donghyuck smiles smugly, knowing that he’s won. 

Mark laughs, forever fond, as he brushes the Jacaranda leaves out of Donghyuck’s hair.

\------

Public Transport in Brisbane is hardly reliable, but the 444 Bus is always relatively on time. For those living in the inner western suburbs-- like Jeno and Jaemin-- it’s just part of the journey home. For Mark and Donghyuck, who both live to the east, the 444 is the quickest way from the school gates to Indooroopilly shopping centre. 

The drive is hindered by the 4pm traffic along Moggil Road, the bus filled with people ranging from office workers to fellow students. Donghyuck claims the only available seat, the rest of them crowding around him in the aisle. 

“I can’t believe you’re going to Indro when Toowong is literally _right there_ ,” Jaemin points out. 

He’s not wrong. There _is_ a small shopping centre within five minutes of their school, but it’s sparse and with not much to do. Indooroopilly is bigger, offers more to explore. It’s the preferred hangout spot of every school kid in the immediate vicinity. 

“Jisung’s working,” Donghyuck supplies, “you know what he’s like with bag checks.” 

“What’s the bet they get caught?” Jeno snickers. 

“We won’t.” 

“But if you do…” 

“Hyuck, mate, we literally just gave you money,” Jaemin groans. 

“But it’s _fun_ ,” Donghyuck whines. 

Donghyuck likes to shoplift. So does Mark, if he’s honest. They all do. It’s something dangerous, exciting, a little bit of teenage rebellion before they’re officially adults.

It’s rarely anything big. Just snacks and random shit from Kmart, bottles of Coke or chocolate milk from supermarkets, shoved into bags when the employees aren’t looking. Mark doesn’t know why Jaemin is protesting so much, especially when he’s the type to steal tester bottles of fragrance from unsuspecting pharmacies. 

Even Renjun and Chenle participate and they’re international students. One wrong move and they’ll find themselves shipped back to China. 

Speaking of which--- 

“Wait, where’s Renjun?” 

\--- the fifth and final member of their year twelve group is suspiciously absent. 

“Cunt’s a walking pride parade and you _don’t_ notice he’s missing,” Jaemin scoffs. “Is this what university does to you? Makes you forget your friends?”

“I was distracted, okay?” Mark mumbles. With all the plovers and the excessive amounts of leaves he had to pick out of Donghyuck’s hair, he didn’t even register that someone was missing. He feels bad, but he knows he’s going to cop it when one of the others inevitably tells Renjun what happened. 

“He’s planning the formal,” Jeno supplies, “check your phones every once in a while, he sent us a message after school.” 

“He’s planning alright,” Jaemin mutters, “honestly, he’s up to something. I know he is.” 

Renjun is the untouchable student. His parents pay exuberant fees for both his education and his board, along with substantial donations to both the school and their charity. He can be out and proud in a conservative Christian school without fear of consequence because losing him means losing a chunk of annual funding. 

He’s earned his position as School Captain with his grades and his charm. But the shiny rainbow flag that he pins neatly alongside his badge is both a statement of rebellion and a display of his privilege. 

In all honesty, Renjun is a living legend, capable of standing up in their Religion and Ethics class, tearing Leviticus a new asshole and living to tell the tale. Rumour has it that even their old, homophobic teacher had to give him an A for the assessment. 

“What’s the bet there’s some sort of secret gay theme to the whole thing?” Donghyuck snickers, “like, he’s asked for flowers that mean same-sex attraction or something.” 

Mark wouldn’t put it past him. 

The others voice their agreement. 

Formals to Queenslanders is what prom is to Americans. The final hurrah of their high school career. The last event as a cohort, a night free from worry before the stress of university acceptance rolls around.

Naturally, Mark has been to four. 

As their school is segregated, most students take dates from one of the two all-girls schools in the city. Mark, being relatively well-liked, ends up as the arm candy of _someone_ once the formal season rolls around.

Renjun usually goes as well, acting as the date of some out and proud girl who isn’t allowed to take her public school girlfriend along with her. 

“I hope he’s got something crazy planned,” Jeno’s eyes light up. Like every other teenager, he’s not a fan of the schooling system, hates the outdated mindset of most of their teachers. “It’s Renjun, he’s gotta secure his legacy.” 

“They’ll have a statue up for him by the end of the year,” Donghyuck adds. “Donated by his parents, of course.”

The thing is, no one would really mind a Renjun statue in the quad. He’s helpful, popular, well-liked. People greet him when they see him in the halls, or at Indro after school. He’s friends with the Orchestra kids and the First XI cricket team. 

“Anyway, formals,” Jeno stops their conversation before it grows more ridiculous. Or worse, Jaemin and Donghyuck start planning a petition for a Renjun statue. “Anyone found a date, yet?” 

“We agreed, no dates,” Donghyuck takes the bait, crosses his arms in front of his body to form an X. “This year is for The Lads, and you don’t fucking dog the lads, Jeno.” 

A boys night out, the final hurrah of their high school careers. It’s something out of a bad teen movie, but Donghyuck is insistent. Mark is secretly pleased, because the whole thing beats having a date who is only attending to post proof of her dress on Instagram. Or worse, the girlfriend of Renjun’s date, who abandons him halfway through to make out in the women’s bathrooms. 

(It’s happened before)

“Mark’s buying the pre’s,” Jaemin adds with an excited grin. “It’s not a formal unless you’re fucking smashed.” 

“They’re not gonna let you in if you’re drunk,” Jeno points out, and rightly so. Teachers aren’t as dumb as the students make them out to be. They know when people have been drinking. “Wait until the afterparty like the rest of us.” 

By the time formal rolls around, Mark will be the only eighteen-year-old of the cohort, suddenly tasked with the duty of purchasing all the alcohol and cigarettes for his underaged friends. It used to be Chenle’s brother’s job. But he’s since finished university and moved back to their parent’s house in China. 

Mark now understands how bothersome it is to be an adult. 

“I hate how cliche all this is,” Donghyuck mumbles quietly once their conversation dies down. He speaks so that only Mark can hear him. “But I’m really excited about the formal.” 

Mark understands, agrees. Despite the legality of his age, he still feels like a kid sometimes. It’s going to feel a lot more official once they graduate and Mark just wants to enjoy the last of his youth while he still can. 

“I get it,” Mark replies. He rests a hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder, squeezing gently. 

The bus lurches to a halt at the Indooroopilly bus stop. 

Donghyuck and Mark share a small, secret smile. 

\------

Frozen Coke is one of the best things about the warmer weather and the fact that McDonald’s and Hungry Jack’s engage in price wars over the treat makes it even better. 

Donghyuck pockets the change after buying one for each of them, elbows knocking against other patrons of the bustling food court. The line for McDonald’s takes up most of the space, filled with school kids wanting to take advantage of the dollar menu.

“You know,” Mark begins, taking a sip of his drink. He avoids the risk of brain freeze because, despite the centre’s airconditioning, there are more than enough people around to make his Frozen Coke, well, less frozen. “You could have shouted me Cha Time instead.” 

“You’re not worth that much,” Donghyuck huffs, obnoxiously sipping. “These bad boys are a whole dollar, but you want me to drop six on bubble tea?” 

“I thought our friendship meant more to you than that.” 

“It means a lot, I promise,” Donghyuck grabs Mark’s arm with his free hand, dragging him towards the escalators. “But it’s definitely not worth six bucks.” 

Indooroopilly is a maze of a shopping centre. Built by people who didn’t understand, nor expect, the eventual boom of the suburb and surrounding areas. Typical Brisbane town planning, in all honesty. Where things are built with no potential for change or expansion, so when renovations finally happen, it turns everything into a labyrinth with confusing navigation. 

Donghyuck and Mark, however, are locals. They’ve been terrorising Indro since primary school. They know their way around. Which means Donghyuck’s sudden left turn at the bottom of the escalator is surprising to Mark. They’re not heading in the direction of Kmart, they’re going somewhere else entirely. 

“I want a new sweater,” Donghyuck supplies. It’s spring. It’s far too hot for a sweater. Mark raises his eyebrow in questioning. 

“We’re hitting H&M?” Mark whispers. Nothing about his sentence gives away their true intentions, but he’s cautious nonetheless. “We usually need more people for that.”

Stealing clothes is more effort than it’s worth, but they have their process. 

First, Donghyuck’s school bag, through sheer luck, legitimately sets off the security alarms at every store they go to. Pairing that with an apologetic speech, an offer to show the interior of his bag and a sweet smile at the security guard, their plan is in action. 

Hiding his item of choice in between other random clothes he intends to “try on”, Donghyuck spends his time in the change rooms either shoving his prize to the bottom of his bag, obscured by books and his sports uniform. 

If their bags are left at the front of the store, he merely put the item of clothing on under his uniform and makes sure his bag is with him when he leaves, so when the security alarm is set off, the guard is none the wiser. 

Paired with a set of strong pliers “borrowed” from the school’s woodworking classroom, the tag comes off and Donghyuck has a new item of clothing, free of charge. 

Their plan goes off without a hitch, as per usual. Donghyuck’s natural charm means that his schemes always seem to work out in his favour. From completely winging speeches in English to stealing from major chain stores: Donghyuck’s intelligence and charisma is what makes it succeed. 

He’s almost wasted on music. Should probably be applying for an Advertising or Marketing degree instead. 

When Mark tells him of such, he’s met with a scoff and a “you sound just like my mother,” prompting a full five minutes of Donghyuck referring to Mark as “mum” until he figures it sounds weird and decides to stop. 

Thankfully, just before they spot Jisung at his spot by the Kmart entrance, because being called pet names in front of him is something Mark can never live down.

Jisung is a good kid, the new sports prodigy of BBC and Mark’s favourite underclassman. They’re in the same house at school and as captain, Mark likes the kids who win races, earn points and get them that house cup for the third year in a row. 

He waves happily at Mark from the entrance before looking around for a manager. When he doesn’t find one, he cheekily pokes his tongue out at Donghyuck. Jisung knows why they’ve come, and Mark suspects he only puts up with it because they’re seniors. 

“If anyone asks, I don’t know either of you,” Jisung says, monotone. It’s his standard greeting for BBC students that he does, in fact, know. 

“My bag’s gonna beep,” Donghyuck says, as he always does. He proves it by setting off the alarm. It piques a few customer’s interests, but they see the private school uniform and sheepish look on Donghyuck’s face as he enters the store and are immediately disinterested again. 

“Do what you came to do and be gone, heathens,” Jisung snarks, “managers are trying to crack down on shoplifting.” 

“They fixed the blind spot, yet?” Donghyuck asks. There is one part of the store by the sporting good section where no cameras can reach. Not many people know about it, so it’s where Donghyuck and Mark go to add their haul into their bag. 

“Not yet,” Jisung sighs, “but they’ll find it soon enough.” 

“Let us know, yeah?” Mark calls out as he wanders in, Donghyuck following dutifully behind him. 

Jisung offers a two finger salute in response. 

\------

Mark makes quick work of shoving a few band shirts, a Squirtle plushie and a giant bag of gummy bears underneath his history textbook and his copy of _Taming of the Shrew_. It does fuck all to cover it, but it’s enough to make it look like it was pre-packed and not stolen if they’re checked elsewhere. 

Donghyuck takes half the stationary aisle with him when he leaves, as per tradition. For someone who steals a lot of pens, Donghyuck never seems to have any on him. It’s probably why he takes them; he loses more pens than he can afford to buy. 

“I like it when it’s just us,” Donghyuck says. They’ve spent legitimate money on Hakataya Ramen, both of them splurging that extra three dollars for double pork. 

Mark chokes on his noodles. 

“Me too,” he manages to say once he recovers. 

“It’s different with you,” Donghyuck continues and Mark knows exactly what he means. 

He’s spent time alone with everyone in their friend group. What he does with Donghyuck he’s done with everyone else at least once, but it doesn’t feel the same. Lighthearted, carefree, always pushing back the urge to smile. The tight, fluttering in his chest he only feels when Donghyuck is around. 

They’re closer than the others. A little more touchy than they should be, but only when Mark feels comfortable or there’s no one around that they have to explain themselves to. Sometimes Donghyuck lays his head in Mark’s lap during lunch time and it’s passed off as just a _thing_ that they do. 

“Of course,” Mark says, “we’re best friends.” 

“Nah,” Donghyuck says with his usual confidence but he speaks only to his ramen. “Somehow that doesn’t feel like the right word, you know?” 

Mark hums in response, and later as they make their way back to the bus stop, shoulders brushing on occasion, he feels like he knows exactly how Donghyuck feels. 

\------

East Brisbane is a suburb filled with an eclectic clash of old and new. Historic buildings filled with modern furnishings, post-war houses sitting on plots of land between apartment buildings. 

East Brisbane is also a suburb that is located a fair distance away from Brisbane Boy’s College. Meaning that the trek to and from school is often a nightmare. While Mark does have his license, he shares the car with his brother who has first dibs on its usage, being a university student who works night shifts. 

Plus, the trip isn’t so bad with Donghyuck by his side. The long commute doesn’t drag quite as much when both the conversation and company is good. 

From their houses to the school takes two busses in the morning, while the trip home requires a short bus ride and a commute on the CityCat in the afternoon. The bus rides are quicker than the ferry, so they take them in the morning to allow for a sleep in. After school, Donghyuck likes to relax on the top deck of the CityCat, taking in the sun and the river views before heading home. 

“I’m auditioning for UQ,” Donghyuck says, as he photosynthesises in the afternoon sun. He practically glows, and Mark is awestruck for a moment, until he realises that he’s being spoken to. 

“I thought you were trying for The Con?” Mark manages to reply with enough time before it turns into an awkward pause. 

The University of Queensland and The Griffith Conservatorium of Music both have wonderful programs. But it’s a lot harder to get into The Con than to UQ, so aspiring musicians state-wide all aim high with their applications and Donghyuck is doing the same. 

“I’m trying for both,” he clarifies, “covering my bases just in case.” 

“Smart,” Mark nods, still awestruck. He knows, objectively, that Donghyuck is attractive. But he doesn’t know how soft his hair is until he reaches out to touch it. Sun-warmed strands like silk beneath his fingers, Donghyuck hums in content and Mark spends the rest of the trip playing with his hair. 

In all honesty, the CityCat stop is completely out of the way for Mark, the walk home long and bothersome up one of Brisbane’s notoriously terrible hills. 

But it’s a little bit of extra time he can spend with Donghyuck, time that they won’t have in the years to come. No matter which university he gets into, it’s different to Mark. They won’t have the same schedule anymore. There won’t be afternoons to spend on boat rides home, warming themselves in the waning sun. 

Their time like this is limited. And Mark intends to make the most of it. 

\------

Mark’s eighteenth birthday party happens two weeks after his actual birthday, under the insistence of his family that milestones should be celebrated with loved ones first, friends second. 

They make themselves scarce, abandoning the house in favour of spending time with Donghyuck’s parents, leaving Mark’s brother with vague control over the house. He’ll likely spend most of the time in his room, but he’s around to take the reins just in case things get out of control. 

Which is unlikely, considering the people Mark has invited; a select group of his friends, classmates and people he should have graduated with. As house parties go it’s on the tamer side, even if Mark does end up throwing up into his mother’s pot plants at 2am and smoking the whole pack of legally-purchased cigarettes in his pocket. 

He loses Jeno and Renjun halfway through the night and finds Donghyuck asleep in his bed, cuddled up to Jaemin, at four o’clock in the morning when he finally decides to retire. 

All in all, it’s uneventful, yet so typically cliche at the same time. 

Mark squeezes himself into the bed next to Donghyuck, room spinning as he tries to sleep.

\------

Everyone has secrets. Parts of themselves that they don’t share, not even with their closest friends. Mark’s biggest secret is hardly incriminating, but it’s something that he’s waiting for the right moment to reveal.

He’s taking an elective at university. A Mandarin course that will extend his degree by six months, but also allow for more employment opportunities in the future. As he becomes more fluent, it will also allow him to understand Renjun and Chenle’s shit talking. When the time's right, he’ll make his grand reveal. It’s a little sneaky, but he knows it’s going to be _hilarious_.

“You seem distracted,” Sicheng, Mark’s Chinese tutor, cuts him off mid-mispronounced sentence. They’re in the same degree, and Sicheng needs help with a subject that Mark has already passed. They trade tutoring sessions instead of paying a stranger their hard earned money for the same service. 

“QCS is coming up,” Mark shrugs, a blanket excuse. He forgets that he’s at uni when he uses it. 

“You don’t need QCS,” Sicheng reminds him. “You don’t even need to pass high school, so long as you pass your subjects here.” 

“Then it’s finals stress,” Mark tries again. 

“I’m calling bullshit,” Sicheng pokes him with his pen. “But if you don’t wanna talk about it, it’s fine.” 

Mark inhales. Exhales. “Are you still friends with the people you went to school with?” He asks. 

“Uh, some of them,” Sicheng replies, confused. “But I work with them, too, so it’s not like I have to go out of my way to see anyone.”

“I see,” Mark breathes, pauses, asks again. “Is it weird being an adult?” 

“Are you having your quarter-life crisis?” Sicheng deadpans, “because I don’t know how to handle them, I’m just warning you.” 

“No, no,” Mark shakes his head. “I know what I’m doing with my life, I’m just…” he trails off, tries to find the right words, “I’m just scared of the future.” 

“Oh God,” Sicheng blanches, “look, I’m really not good with motivational speaking---” 

“Listening is enough,” Mark laughs. “Anyone else would just brush me off, or like, call me stupid or something.”

“Fear isn’t stupid,” Sicheng says after a moment. It’s the most profound thing Mark will get out of him, but he can tell that he’s trying.

“I’m scared but I’m also excited?” Mark continues. Sicheng nods in understanding. “I like hanging out with everyone, but I’m ready to graduate, you know?” 

“I get you.” 

“And we’re all going to different universities? So it’s going to be hard to catch up.” 

“That’s normal.” 

“I just,” Mark breathes out through his nose, a noise of frustration. “I don’t want anything to change.” 

“Maybe it won’t?” Sicheng shrugs, “if you all try hard enough, that is?” 

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Mark laughs. He’s thankful for Sicheng’s attempt at helping. Honestly. “But also thank you, you know, for listening.” 

“I did sweet fuck all,” Sicheng declares, “but you’re very welcome,” he points his pen at Mark’s homework. “Now, what does that say?” 

Thankful for the distraction, Mark goes back to his work, mispronunciation and all. 

\------

“Okay, question,” Jaemin starts with a mouth full of sandwich. He’s been in Australia long enough to bleed Vegemite, something neither Renjun nor Chenle has ever been able to stomach. “Why are youse here when you’ve got dorms you can eat in? Think of the aircon, mate.” 

Chenle and Renjun are borders. They live in school-owned dorm buildings next door to the campus with the other international students. Mark has seen Renjun’s room and it’s quite comfortable, with decent enough food being provided for lunch and dinner.

“We’re not allowed off campus during break,” Chenle sighs, “and _please_ stop speaking like a Bogan, I can barely understand you.” 

Jaemin’s father is a public school drop out, concreter by trade who started his own business and made it big. He’s grown up on construction sites and his vocabulary reflects it. The only thing not decidedly middle class about Jaemin and his family is their bank account. 

“Barely understanding is still understanding,” Jaemin shrugs. 

“It’s barely English, is what it is,” Chenle mumbles. 

The conversation dies. 

Donghyuck is typing up his English essay on his laptop, distracted. Jisung is sitting with his classmates instead, so they’ve got no one to pick on. Mark’s only just arrived after a morning at university. Renjun and Jeno are suspiciously silent when usually, they’re the heart of the conversation. They’re close friends but barely looking at each other.

“Uhh,” Mark gestures between them. “Elephant. Room?” 

“We made out at Mark’s party and now he’s being weird about it,” Renjun huffs. Everyone shoots them a blank look. Even Donghyuck tears his attention away from his essay.

“I said I didn’t want to talk about it,” Jeno mumbles. 

“And _I_ said it’s just what I do when I’ve been drinking,” Renjun rolls his eyes. “I kiss my friends because you’re all cute and I’m an emotional drunk.” 

“I’ve kissed Renjun,” Jaemin raises his hand in confession. “It’s just like, a thing that happens when you drink with him.” 

“ ‘s not a big deal,” Mark shrugs. He hasn’t kissed Renjun, personally, but he’s been smooched on the cheek a few times. 

“You said I was your type, though?” Jeno fiddles with the end of his tie awkwardly. 

Mark sees why he’s so hesitant. Kissing friends is fine, but Jeno’s seems to be of the opinion that Renjun has _feelings_ for him. Ones that aren’t reciprocated. Jeno being Jeno, is too nice to break Renjun’s heart. 

“I’m a teenager, Jeno,” Renjun sighs, “everyone cute is my type.” 

“Renjun likes ambiguously straight-slash-bicurious dudes,” Donghyuck snickers. 

“Renjun knows it’s dumb to fall for straight boys,” he replies, sending a loaded, pointed look in Donghyuck’s direction. Donghyuck’s face falls. “No matter how ambiguous or as curious as they may be.”

His words prompt Donghyuck into silence, lip bitten. He pauses for a moment before the clacking of keys continues as he resumes his work on his essay. Renjun’s statement, pointed look, Donghyuck’s reaction. It means something, a mystery that has Mark ever curious. 

“In conclusion,” Renjun pokes Jeno straight in the sternum. “Kissing is fun, I’m not in love with you, we’re cool,” he holds a hand out for Jeno to shake. “Right?”

“Right,” Jeno croaks, taking hold of Renjun’s hand and shaking it lightly. “We’re cool.” 

“So dramatic,” Jaemin rolls his eyes. 

“Renjun really needs a boyfriend,” Chenle adds.

“Don’t we all,” Renjun sighs. 

With that, the tension eases and things go back to normal. 

Apart from Donghyuck, who continues to frown at the essay that Mark _knows_ he’s going to ace, anyway.

\------

“Master Thief Donghyuck strikes again, boys!” 

Mark hears Donghyuck before he sees him. Or rather, he hears Renjun’s cries of offence before Donghyuck announces his arrival. 

Waving a stack of papers in the air, Donghyuck slides to a halt at their group. “Guess what I’ve got,” he sing songs. 

“QCS answer sheet?” Jaemin asks hopefully. 

“Unfortunately not, Mister Future Doctor,” Donghyuck sighs overdramatically, “but I did steal Renjun’s formal planning notes.” 

“Gimme,” Jeno makes grabby hands at the papers. 

“Don’t you dare!” Renjun finally catches up, bent over and out of breath. “Donghyuck, I’m gonna _kill_ you.” 

He all but throws the paper at Jeno, who cackles maniacally after opening the pages. Meanwhile, in order to protect himself from Renjun’s wrath, Donghyuck climbs into Mark’s lap, looping his arms around his neck and burying his face into Mark’s chest. 

“Save me,” he whispers, dramatically. “Avenge my death, Mark.” 

“Um,” Mark stutters, “anything for you?” 

He hopes that it’s the right response. 

“Wow,” Jaemin whistles, “that’s the gayest thing I’ve seen all day.” 

“Some of us like men, Jaemin,” Renjun rolls his eyes. He’s given up on wrestling the pages out of Jeno’s hands and has instead taken up space next to him, waiting for comments as Jeno peruses the planning. “Get over it.” 

Donghyuck’s sexuality is ambiguous and unconfirmed. Mark has seen him kissing girls at parties before, but that’s not always an indication of heterosexuality. He’s seen _Renjun_ kiss girls while drunk, for God’s sake. As such, he expects a sassy retort from Donghyuck at the implication, but it never comes. He just pokes his tongue out at Jaemin and snuggles further into Mark’s chest. 

“Maybe _all_ of us are somewhat into dudes,” Jaemin replies, “because being around Renjun makes us realise that sometimes dudes are kinda cute.”

“Are you hitting on me?” Renjun flutters his eyelashes at rigid looking Jaemin. 

“No, you shithead,” he sighs, “I’m… coming out?” 

“Oh shit,” Renjun scrambles to Jaemin’s side. He looks both relieved and terrified, but thankful for the comfort of his friend. “Honey, I’m so sorry for making a joke out of it.” 

“All good, mate,” Jaemin manages a weak grin, “but hey, now you’ve got someone to go to gay clubs with when we’re eighteen?” 

“I’ll join you,” Jeno says, unbothered, still looking over the formal notes. “Not in the whole _coming out_ thing, because I’m still undecided, but gay clubs sound fun.” 

“Noted,” Renjun nods, “anyone else got something to share with the class?” 

“Ditto on Jaemin’s point, ditto on Jeno’s,” Donghyuck mumbles, “but neither of those things are a secret, I just want attention.” 

Donghyuck drops the information so casually, implies that everyone should already know that he’s not exactly straight. Mark feels like the world’s shittiest best friend because he hasn’t realised, didn’t know, didn’t pay enough attention until now. 

He vows to buy Donghyuck food the next time they’re out, a silent apology for his neglect. 

“Duh,” Renjun rolls his eyes. “Now, what do you think about the decoration theme?” 

“It looks like a wedding,” Jeno flashes the mood board that Renjun has made. “Like, I’m pretty fucking sure these are all wedding pictures?” 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jaemin sighs. 

Renjun’s accompanying laugh and guilty smile makes Mark believe that the theme is more than intentional. 

\------

Mark doesn’t attend school at all on Thursdays, as he’s managed to fit most of his university subjects into the one day. Usually, he finishes class and heads straight home, but Donghyuck has been messaging him about his Honey Bread cravings since 10am. 

There is a forty-five-minute gap between Mark’s last tutorial and Donghyuck’s arrival in the city, so he wanders from campus and into Queen Street Mall to do some solo window shopping before meeting Donghyuck at the iconic Hungry Jacks. 

The fast-food restaurant chain is the standard meeting place for those living in Brisbane, located in the middle of the cross-point of the outdoor mall, there are enough seats and space for people to wait for their friends. Even if it’s easier to meet at the final destination, it’s _tradition_ to meet at Hungry Jacks.

Donghyuck’s honey bread idea must have been pre-planned, because when he approaches Mark he’s not in his uniform. Having a random outfit in his bag isn’t something out of the ordinary for Donghyuck. But he’s swapped his polished, leather school shoes for his favourite sneakers and Mark knows they wouldn’t be just lying around amongst the empty chip packets at the bottom of his bag. 

“Hon-ey-bread, hon-ey-bread!” Donghyuck chants excitedly as he approaches Mark. The whole Honey Bread obsession started in year nine, after a family trip home to Korea. It all happened around the same time that Donghyuck said “fuck it,” and abandoned his English name for good. Mark can’t help but think that there’s a connection. 

Donghyuck likes the Korean cafe on Elizabeth Street because of their menu, their free wifi and because he can speak his mother tongue with the staff. Mark, on the other hand, is a second generation immigrant whose Korean leaves a lot to be desired. He still uses his English name, despite the rest of his friends abandoning theirs years ago. 

“So,” Donghyuck fiddles with the buzzer that acts as their table number. “I kinda need some advice.” 

Mark figured as much. Honey Bread is Donghyuck’s comfort food and he only really craves it when he’s worried about something. 

“What’s up?” 

“I’m gonna put a double degree on my uni application,” Donghyuck says quickly, words rushing and tumbling past his lips. “You know, just in case.” 

Donghyuck doesn’t want to be a star, he just wants to work with music. It’s smart to have something as a backup, especially when the music programs are overrun with other singers and piano players. Not that Mark is doubting Donghyuck’s talent, not at all. Mark thinks he’s _incredible_. But options are always good to have. 

“What are you thinking?” Mark prompts. 

“Education, primary school,” Donghyuck swallows thickly. “ And music, of course. But yeah. I think I’m gonna be a teacher.” 

Mark was expecting Music and Business or Music and Law. Especially since Donghyuck’s been mentioning UQ, and Mark knows that they’re degrees offered there. But education is something completely out of nowhere, especially because Donghyuck has never expressed an interest in teaching. 

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Donghyuck continues, “I know I want to work with music, but I don’t really want to be a musician?” He taps the plastic buzzer against the table. “But I could, like, use music as a part of my teaching plan with kids, you know? Make it fun for them to learn, or something.” 

Mark can see it. Grown-up Donghyuck in his smart casual teacher’s clothes, his keyboard at the front of a colourful classroom. Mark can imagine him making up little songs to remember grammar rules, charming parents using interviews and becoming a fond childhood memory for his students. 

Donghyuck can use music at work and let his personality shine, all in one profession. Now that Mark thinks about it, there’s no job in the world more suited for him. 

It’s perfect. 

The buzzer goes off before Mark can say anything and Donghyuck scrambles to retrieve their Honey Bread and Kiwi Smoothies from the counter. 

“So,” Donghyuck sets their food onto the table. “Any thoughts?” 

“It’s the best idea you’ve ever had,” Mark says solemnly, before breaking into a grin. “But do you really think they’ll let _you_ influence children?” 

Donghyuck huffs, affronted. “Excuse me,” he says, “I’m a wonderful role model for children.” 

“Master Thief Donghyuck,” Mark snickers, “the ideal inspiration for six-year-olds.” 

Donghyuck refuses to reply. But he _does_ flick some of the cream on his fork onto Mark’s black shirt.

\------

Mark has known Renjun for most of his life. Which means he’s aware of his various expressions and how much trouble they mean. The others are the same, so when Renjun appears at their table with a shit-eating grin, they start to panic. 

“Oh no,” Jeno moans. 

“Yeah,” Jaemin breathes, “that’s not a good look.” 

“Mark,” Donghyuck tugs at his sleeve, “I’m scared.” 

“You’re all chickenshit,” Chenle rolls his eyes. “It’s just Renjun, for fuck’s sake.” 

“Jaemin’s vocabulary is rubbing off on you,” Jisung points out. Chenle looks appropriately offended. 

“Ladies,” Renjun declares as he approaches the table. “I have news.” 

“News and Renjun equals bad,” Jeno stage whispers. 

“Hit me,” Donghyuck replies dramatically, “just get it over with.” 

“I’m ignoring all of you,” Renjun says, tone and hand gesture both flippant. “But the school may or may not be letting me bring a date to formal.” 

“You’re ditching the boys!” Jaemin cries, “how dare you!” 

“ _He_ ,” Renjun’s grin grows wider. “Will be joining our group, so there’s no ditching.” 

“It’s a guy?” 

“You’re bringing a dude?” 

“You have a _boyfriend_?”

“How’d your parents manage to swing that?” Jisung drawls. 

“It’s not like that,” Renjun laughs, “except the parents thing. It was definitely a parents thing.” 

“How did they do it?” Donghyuck asks, on the edge of his seat. 

“Let’s just say,” Renjun begins slyly, “that a former, well-loved student will be re-joining us for the formal he never got to have.”

“You can’t possibly mean--” 

“I do possibly mean,” Renjun replies. 

A friend of Renjun’s who left the school. Someone popular, well-known. A student that even the school still mourns the loss of. 

It can only mean one person. 

\------

The CBD has a bottle shop with a designated drinking area outside, situated conveniently next to an ashtray. No one actually knows the name of the establishment, so it’s usually referred to as “that bottle-o with the seats”, or “the one place in the city where you can drink outside”. 

Mark is eighteen. While the others don’t really let him forget it, he has to remind himself of the fact every time he buys his own alcohol and a pack of menthols. 

Mark is eighteen. Which means he’s allowed to pick and choose with his alcohol, not just be satisfied with whatever he’s given. He grabs a six pack of cider because beer is disgusting and alcopops just remind him of underage hangovers past. 

Really, Mark only has one friend he can drink with legally. And it just so happens to be the man of the hour. 

Lucas, the former swimming and water polo champion of their school, year ten drop out and current apprentice chef. The only person Mark can think of that could possibly be Renjun’s mystery date for the formal.

“Sup, cunt,” Lucas slides into the chair opposite Mark, his Australian accent far too thick for his appearance. He carries with him a large duffel bag, most likely containing his uniform, as Lucas is meeting him after his day shift at work. 

It’s 6pm, Friday night. The tables outside are rapidly filling. Mark’s managed to secure two seats in the corner, but he’s sure the rest of them will fill with strangers soon enough. 

Lucas slips him a twenty dollar note, his half for the menthols and the cider. Well, not quite half, but they do this often enough that it’s probably evened out by now. 

“I hear you’re coming to formal?” Mark says in lieu of a greeting. Lucas throws his head back and laughs. 

“Yeah, I’m surprised they’re letting me,” he grabs a cider, opens the top on the side of the table, takes a sip. “It’s not even my graduating year.” 

Like Mark, if Lucas were to have graduated on time, it would have been the year prior. He’s the only one from his starting grade that Mark still keeps in regular contact with. It’s most likely because of proximity: Lucas’ apprenticeship is on Mary Street, Mark’s university campus two streets further along. 

They meet up sometimes, like this or whenever their lunch breaks coincide. 

“You know Renjun,” Mark laughs, “there’s nothing he can’t get away with.” 

“Yeah,” Lucas takes another swig. Mark mirrors him. “Renjun’s pretty great.” 

“Is there a but?” 

“Nah,” Lucas laughs. Lucas laughs a lot. It’s his default; noise, laughter and an uplifting spirit. Like the personification of too many vodkas. “No but’s. Renjun is… well, he’s just great.” 

They should never have been friends, Lucas and Renjun. But they’re both the type of people who can socialise easily outside their friend groups, so it’s no wonder that they somehow came together, age difference be damned. 

“The others reckon he’s scheming,” Mark points out.

“And I’m gonna agree with them.”

Friendship with Lucas is easy, comfortable. They’re stuck together as friends who didn’t quite finish their schooling the way they planned. But Mark’s happy, and Lucas seems to be too, despite how much he loathes his job. 

“Chefs,” Lucas says over his second cider, “are certified cunts. It’s like, once you move past being an apprentice, you turn into an asshole.” 

“Amen to that,” mumbles the person seated to Mark’s left. There are three of them, friends squashed in next to Mark and Lucas for lack of other available table space. They too seem to be in the hospitality industry. 

Introductions are made with liquor loosened tongues, and suddenly Mark is friends with a Yuta, a Kun and a Taeil. The latter of whom has just been appointed the bar manager at an upscale pub in Woolloongabba. 

“Not where I thought I’d be with a Hospitality and Tourism degree, honestly,” Taeil admits over his beer. He’s drinking something craft, a brand Mark has never heard of. 

“It’s exactly where you thought you’d be,” Kun, one of the few, non-asshole chefs of the world, replies. 

They share their beer, which isn’t as bad as Mark thought it would be and they accept some of Mark’s cigarettes in payment, despite having packs of their own. 

“Hospitality,” Yuta says, his tone jaded. “If you don’t smoke you go crazy.” 

Lucas hums in agreement. 

It is often said that Brisbane is a big small town, one where the six degrees of separation is reduced to two. The colloquial belief is proven when Sicheng manages to wrangle a seat next to Taeil. Turns out they’re coworkers, former friends from high school. 

Mark finishes the night a little drunker than he originally planned, with three new friends added to his Facebook. 

Lucas, on the other hand, starts penning his two weeks notice under Kun’s careful guidance. 

Turns out there’s a upscale pub in Woolloongabba in desperate need of an apprentice, and a good team of staff who would love to have Lucas join them.

A big small town, indeed.

\------

It’s not often that Renjun joins them at Indooroopilly after school. Especially with the formal, exams and other generally important things growing closer with every day. But even workaholics like Renjun need a break, and so when a casual, non-shoplifting trip is proposed, he decides to come along. 

Jisung isn’t working, Chenle’s bored enough to follow and so the whole group is together for what feels like the first time in forever. 

The purpose of their Indro trip is simple: Frozen Coke, gyoza, Donghyuck buying a Polaroid camera. He’s had his eye on one for _months_ , a pastel yellow model he can use to document the final stretch of high school. 

“I want to make a photo wall when I move out,” Donghyuck tells them. He stands backwards on the escalator, a habit of his that always gives Mark a heart attack. 

“You’re moving out?” Jeno asks what everyone else is thinking. It’s so much easier for him to finish uni while still living at home. He’s not that far from any of his choices, just a short bus or CityCat ride away. 

“Eventually,” Donghyuck laughs, “I need to find someone to live with, first,” he stops, looks over his friends, visibly cringes. “None of you lot, though. I’ll find someone at uni, I think.” 

“I’m offended,” scoffs Jaemin. 

“Then I take it back,” Donghyuck replies, “I’d totally live with Jisung when he graduates.” 

Jisung cheers in victory. The others grumble at the insult.  
Their demeanour changes, however, once Donghyuck’s yellow Polaroid camera sits safely in his hands. Crowding in behind Donghyuck they pose with their silliest faces outside of the JB-Hifi, the bright flash illuminating them as Donghyuck takes the picture. 

It’s atrocious. The angle is off and he’s cut half of both Jaemin and Chenle out of the photo but it’s just the first of many. 

Donghyuck has plenty of time to improve his skills before he’s ready to assemble the photo wall he’s dreamed of. 

\------

Mark grabs his pre-reserved keys, grabs his parent’s credit card and grabs a babbling Donghyuck by the collar as he chats with Mark’s mother in Korean by the kitchen counter. It’s suit shopping day and they need to haul ass before they’re late. 

Renjun has insisted on buying from a store located in Chermside, which is an absolute bitch to get to, even with a car. Located to the north of the city and notoriously terrible with traffic at all hours of the day, Mark hates the area with a passion. 

But Renjun insists, because the owner of the store is somehow related to one of the lesbians he’s accompanied to formal before. Something about solidarity and supporting businesses who support the queer community. Which is something they can all get behind, bitch of a drive be damned. 

So Mark drives Donghyuck and Jaemin borrows his mother's car to take everyone else out to their destination. Their last minute addition definitely has his own transport, as Mark discovers when they pull into the parking lot. 

“Lucas!” Donghyuck winds down the window, then proceeds to practically hang out of it as he greets their old friend. “Sup?” 

“Mate,” Lucas drawls, waiting for the car to roll to a stop before hugging Donghyuck through the window. “Long time no see, ay?” 

“Mark!” Lucas pulls Mark into his own hug once he steps out of the car. It’s longer, a little more lingering than his hug with Donghyuck. Lucas has always been closer with Mark than with the others. “I’ve missed you!” 

“You saw me last week, asshole,” Mark struggles to breathe under the crushing weight of Lucas’ embrace.

“Cute,” Renjun coos, appearing out of nowhere. Lucas is such a huge presence that he’s distracting. Mark doesn’t even notice when the others arrive, too preoccupied with Lucas and his noise. 

If Mark and Lucas are close, then he and Renjun are closer. Lucas picks Renjun up, spinning him around. It’s an old habit, something that hasn’t changed despite two years of decreased contact between them. 

It gives Mark a little bit of hope. If Lucas can change so much, yet so little at the same time, then will the rest of them be the same when their paths diverge?

“Renjun’s scheming again,” Jeno says, interrupting. “Just so you know.” 

“I have plans but I need cooperation,” Renjun replies, “in fact, gentlemen, it’s why we’re gathered here today.” 

“It’s a gay thing,” Jaemin adds, “he told us about it in the car.” 

“Six colours in the basic rainbow, six of us,” Renjun starts to explain. Mark freaks out for a moment, thinking he’ll have to wear a green suit to formal. But then he remembers that it’s _Renjun_ and that he has actual taste. “I’m thinking coloured bowties?” 

Oh, thank fuck. 

“I’m down,” Lucas says, shrugging with his usual nonchalance. “But only if I can be red.” 

They pick their colours with minimal argument. Mark ends up with orange because he honestly doesn’t mind which colour he gets, he’s just happy to be included in something that means so much to Renjun. It’s his final stand, his last rebellion and Mark is so proud of him for it. 

Hyuck picks yellow, meaning that they’ll stand together in group photos. It could be deliberate, it could not, but Mark is so secretly pleased. 

It turns out Renjun’s had their outfits pre-planned. Which shouldn’t be a surprise considering his request for their measurements nearly one month prior. Their suits are half-sewn and ready to be fitted when they walk through the door of the tailors. 

Navy blue suits, crisp white shirts and bowties in muted shirts so they don’t clash with anything. Renjun has put so much thought into this it’s incredible. The seamstress, too, has done a wonderful job. Renjun looks close to tears once he spots everyone in their outfits. 

Mark’s pants are a little long, a bit baggy. He stands completely still as the seamstress pins and marks the fabric, making sure everything fits perfectly. 

“How do I look?” Mark asks Donghyuck as he approaches. His own fitting done, he’s back in his own clothes, waiting for Mark to finish.

“Handsome,” Donghyuck says softly, “as always.” 

“Aren’t you two adorable?” the seamstress coos. “The sweetest couple I’ve had through here in a while.”

Mark chokes. Donghyuck flushes bright red. 

For some reason, neither of them bother to correct her.

\------

With the reintroduction of Lucas to the rest of the group, he starts to join in on more of their shenanigans. First order of which is a teenage pilgrimage up Brisbane’s iconic Mount Cootha.

The mountain means a lot of things to different people, depending on the time of day. It’s a tourist trap, a picnic spot, somewhere to watch the sunset over Brisbane’s skyline. But once night falls it’s an ideal hook up spot or somewhere to hang out while smoking or drinking underage whilst being generally rebellious teenagers. 

They all cram into Lucas’ old Hyundai, sans Jeno whose parents refuse to let him out so late at night. Mark and Donghyuck’s parents think they’re at Jaemin’s house, while Jaemin has just straight up tells his (very lenient) parents where he’s going. Armed with a bottle of stolen fragrance two packs of cider and some smokes, they’re set. 

They sit in a secluded area so they don’t bother anyone with the smell, and so they don’t draw attention to themselves. Renjun definitely looks too young to be drinking, so they don’t need unnecessary attention from the police who do regular patrols of the area at night. 

The view is stunning. 

Mark appreciates the cityscape as he takes his first drag. 

“Brisbane, you go alright sometimes,” Donghyuck says from his position beside him. Mark offers the neck of his cider in a cheers of agreement. 

Lucas, as the designated driver, takes one small sip from Renjun’s drink and calls it a night. Meanwhile, Jaemin’s already onto his second. 

It’s strange that Mark never noticed how close Lucas and Renjun really are. He’s known them both for so long, but the sight of Renjun on Lucas’ lap is surprising, not only to him but to the others as well. 

After a questioning look from Mark, a gleeful Lucas offers an over exaggerated shrug in response. 

The whole trip was his idea, something to celebrate Donghyuck’s successful auditions. 

“I think I did alright,” he offers when prompted. 

Which is Donghyuck-speak for “I smashed it, there’s no way I can’t get in.” 

All that’s left is passing exams. 

“I feel like a fifth wheel,” Jaemin bemoans, gesturing at Lucas and Renjun practically cuddling and the lack of distance between Mark and Donghyuck that he’s only just noticed. “But it’s okay, I have cider. Cider can be my boyfriend.” 

“Awww, you’re feeling left out?” Renjun coos. 

He pounces, using Lucas’ lap as a springboard to launch himself in Jaemin’s direction, knocking them both back onto the grass as he covers a giggling, squirming Jaemin in kisses. 

“Thanks for this,” Donghyuck says quietly, breaking Mark away from the spectacle. 

“It wasn’t my idea,” Mark replies. 

“I know,” Donghyuck rests his head on Mark’s shoulder, cigarette dangling from his hand. “But you’re here, and that’s enough.” 

There’s something missing from the moment. A phrase, an action. But Mark doesn’t know what it is, so he settles with resting his head on Donghyuck’s for the briefest of seconds. 

It’s enough, he tells himself. 

It’s enough.

\------

 

Finals at university means that Mark becomes a social hermit due to all the last minute cramming. The school lets him take a week off for study and Mark holes himself in his room going over all his notes from the semester. 

He gets through his IT subjects easy enough, but he can tell he’s only scraping by with his Mandarin grade. 

Sicheng is going to be disappointed. Not surprised, but still disappointed. 

With university finals out of the way, Mark starts to vaguely worry about his high school exams. He finished Math and Biology the previous year, so all he has to worry about is English, Religion and Ethics and History. 

None of which are particularly hard.

It’s the day before QCS and Mark is lounging around watching old South Park episodes on his laptop. Because the exam covers a bit of every subject, Mark can’t see the point in trying to prepare for it. He doesn’t know what’s going to be on the exam, so he’s just going to play it by ear. 

He will, however, make sure to bring his calculator along. Donghyuck’s threat may have been empty, but Mark’s not willing to tempt his wrath. 

Speaking of Donghyuck, he’s been on Mark’s mind all day. The weather has turned, sunshine swapped for intermittent showers and overcast skies. Donghyuck’s weirdly specific food cravings go into overdrive when it’s raining and Mark is curious about the weather’s current effect on his appetite. 

It’s just one of those Donghyuck Things that fascinates him. 

As if Mark’s thoughts have summoned him, Mark’s mother announces Donghyuck’s arrival at their house. He slips through Mark’s bedroom door, hair damp and the cuffs of his jeans soaked from the rain. 

Donghyuck must have walked over, then. 

“If I do one more QCS prep test my head’s gonna burst,” Donghyuck groans, collapsing on Mark’s bed. There’s gonna be a wet patch on his sheets where Donghyuck’s ankles were, but Mark finds he doesn’t mind that much. 

“What’s your plan, then?” 

“Your brother’s home, right?” Donghyuck props himself up on his elbows. “Meaning you’ve got the car? If you wanted it, of course.” 

“Where are we going?” Mark sighs. He doesn’t bother arguing because he knows he’ll give in, anyway. 

“Burleigh,” Donghyuck smiles brightly. “I’m craving fish and chips.” 

Mark groans, but moves to change out of his pyjamas, anyway.

\------

Contrary to popular belief, the beautiful beaches that Queensland is known for aren’t actually located in Brisbane. They’re on the aptly named Gold Coast, approximately one hour’s drive south from Mark’s house. 

The picture-perfect Miami beach or the tourist trap of Surfers Paradise are more well-known, but Donghyuck and Mark are local enough to know that Burleigh is the best place to swim. Not that they’re swimming, not with the weather being so bad. Dark skies mean turbulent water and strong winds and neither of them are willing to brave the dangerous surf. 

No, what Mark and Donghyuck are driving so far for is Fish & Chips. A small, family-owned takeaway shop sells the best chips in the area, and Mark has made many the pilgrimage down the M1 to satisfy Donghyuck’s cravings. 

The drive down is relatively peaceful. Softly playing music the background for raindrops on the car’s roof. There aren’t many other drivers on the road, either. It’s a Sunday and it’s raining so most people have decided to stay inside their warm, dry house. 

Donghyuck fills the air with conversation, hums along to the music on his playlist. They avoid talking about school, exams, uni. The letters Q, C and S are banned from appearing together in sequence. With Donghyuck’s change in career plan, he has to get a relatively good OP as well as passing his audition. He hasn’t been preparing as much as he should have and so he’s stressed. 

Mark believes in him, tells him so, is met with a small smile. 

Burleigh is completely empty, as expected. The usually bustling area devoid of traffic, picnic areas vacant and beachfront abandoned. Where Mark usually has to fight for a parking spot, he has plenty to choose from. 

It’s such a pleasant experience, coming to Burleigh in the rain. 

They’ll have to do this more often. 

“It’s dead,” Donghyuck points out, as they walk from the parked car to the takeaway store. Donghyuck shields the two of them under his umbrella, but Mark is a little too broad and ends up with a wet shoulder, anyway. 

Donghyuck’s order is generous, fuelled by cravings. Potato scallops, prawn cutlets, pineapple fritters and their weight’s worth of beer battered chips, everything soaked in salt and vinegar and tomato sauce on the side. The smell of it cooking has Mark’s mouth watering and stomach grumbling as he realises how long it’s been since he’s actually eaten. 

“You wanna eat here or find a spot in the park?” Mark asks once their food has been wrapped up in the customary butcher’s paper. Their order, despite being large, finishes cooking in no time at all due to the lack of customers. 

“The park, I think.” 

Donghyuck cradles the parcel to his chest, shielding it from the weather and keeping himself warm. He shivers, despite his sweater, against the harsh winds blowing in from the shore. Mark hesitates for a moment before wrapping an arm around Donghyuck’s waist, pulling him into his side. 

Their pace slows as Mark struggles with what he’s just done. Donghyuck shoots him a confused look, but rearranges himself so that his arm can loop comfortably around Mark’s shoulders. 

“Let’s eat here,” he says, gesturing towards a nearby gazebo, “it looks vaguely dry?” 

Vaguely is the right word for it. Occasionally the wind will pick up and they’ll be hit with a spattering of rain, diving to protect the food from going soggy, shivering and laughing through the onslaught. 

They sit, huddled for warmth, shoulders and knees touching once the wind dies down, conversing in between bites as they all but inhale their food. It’s good, like it always is, washed down with cans of bright magenta creaming soda. 

Most likely a meal best enjoyed elsewhere, but Mark’s having fun. Donghyuck is too, judging by his smile, the relaxation evident in his posture. It looks like he’s forgotten, if even for a moment, about the upcoming stress of QCS and final exams. 

Empty paper and cans in the bin, Mark stretches as Donghyuck unfurls the umbrella before their trek back to the car. 

Mark itches to pull Donghyuck towards him again but resists. He doesn’t know why he wants the contact, doesn’t understand why he’s hesitating. They’re always touchy, but it’s mostly due to Donghyuck’s instigation. Mark’s chest feels tight, a swooping sensation in his stomach--- 

Carefully, Donghyuck’s free hand comes into contact with Mark’s wrist, sliding downwards until their hands tangle together. Mark shoots a look at the loose linking of their fingers and across to Donghyuck, whose posture is brave but smile is hesitant. 

Mark doesn’t flinch away, barely reacts externally. Internally, however, he’s in a panic. Donghyuck smiles just a little bit wider, grips his hand a fraction tighter and slows the pace of his walking so the moment will last. 

They don't talk about it. 

Not during the walk back to the car, not during the drive home. Not even when Mark’s hand ends up in Donghyuck’s again as they’re halfway up the M1, rain hitting the windscreen. 

They don’t talk about it, because it’s not the right time to talk about it. 

Donghyuck’s request to stay overnight at Mark’s house is to ease his stress for the upcoming exams with a partial excuse to stay close, hold hands again. Their conversations involve everything but things that will cause Donghyuck to freak out, and evidently, whatever is happening between them with the hand holding and the physical contact, that’s a stress that can wait for another day. 

Mark should be asleep when he realises what it all means: 

There are feelings there, unnamed, uncategorised, but feelings nonetheless. And it’s on both sides. Mark understands what Donghyuck means when he says that _friends_ just isn’t a label that fits them anymore. And Mark doesn’t want it to fit, either. 

But the reality is that nothing could end up changing. They could keep the label, let the feelings fade, stay friends but always have their day at Burleigh. The future, their futures, so much of it is uncertain. 

It’s a conversation that needs to happen. But not now. 

Maybe once they’re done preparing for the rest of their lives.

\------

Jaemin leads the whooping and hollering cohort as they leave the exam hall, QCS over and done with, finally. After three years of preparation, they never have to look at a practice exam or writing exercise again. 

Renjun catches up to Mark and Donghyuck, the latter of which is still leaping for joy at the prospect of completing his assessment. 

“Kbbq on me,” he says, before pausing. “Well, on my parents, actually. They told me to celebrate.” 

“Yes!” Donghyuck cheers, “please thank Mama and Papa Renjun for this glorious gift of meat!”

“I’m down,” Mark replies, “Hungry Jacks at seven?”  
“You know it, mate!” 

Renjun runs off to tell the others, a skip in his step.

\------

The unfortunate thing about Brisbane heat is that it’s humid, meaning the temperature is just as bad at night as it is during the day. There is little to no reprieve, yet the Mark of an hour past thought that wearing jeans would be a great idea. 

The Mark of an hour past was wrong. 

He manages to wrangle the car keys off his brother, driving both himself and an excitable Donghyuck into the city in search of cheap, after hours parking. They find it in the form of King George Square, whose five dollar option and short walking distance to their location beats out their need to save money. 

Besides, their meal is already taken care of, thanks to Renjun’s parents. 

Approaching Hungry Jacks, they spot Jeno and Jaemin already waiting. Apparently, Jaemin’s parents are also out for dinner so they’ve hitched a ride into the city and have been hanging out for around an hour or so. Renjun completes the group when he arrives not too long after.

Maru is busy, despite being a Tuesday night. They have to wait for a BBQ table but it’s worth every second of the fifteen-minute wait. 

As they’re seated, Donghyuck quickly gets to ordering, a flash of surprise on their server’s face at the sudden burst of Korean. With five hungry, teenage boys at the table, it’s quickly filled with BBQ sets and plenty of sides, cans of Coke and enough kimchi to feed either a small army or one whole Jaemin. 

“I feel like part of me is missing,” Jeno admits, taking the first of the meat from the grill. “But that QCS-shaped hole is about to be filled with food.” 

“It was so…” Renjun pauses, stuffs his face, continues. “Lacklustre? I expected it to be harder, what with all the preparation we were given.” 

“The writing task was _bullshit_ ,” Donghyuck groans, “what kinda prompt is _Time_ , anyway?” 

They complain about the test until the food is gone and their stomachs are full. Groaning in disappointment when they realise one of their answers was wrong and celebrating when their choice is a unanimous one. 

It’s strange to think that it’s all over. What was once such a huge part of their lives now behind them. All that’s left is exams and they’re free. 

What a strange, terrifying thought. 

\-------

The final exam of Mark’s high school career is actually an in-class essay. An anti-climatic ending to it all, if he’s honest. Especially because he knows the topic question already and has the whole thing planned out before he even steps into the hall. 

Donghyuck isn’t in his English class, but the whole cohort sits the exam at the same time, so they manage to sneak into adjacent seats. The hall is still abuzz with chatter, the students still allowed the liberty of discussion before the assessment. 

“Good luck,” Donghyuck says, offering a thumbs up. 

“You too.” 

Mark doesn’t return the gesture, instead offering his hand across the aisle for Donghyuck to take. It’s such a tender moment, something to ease the stress. Donghyuck squeezes his fingers gently and this time Mark reciprocates. 

“And no one is surprised,” says the boy behind Donghyuck. 

“Seriously,” someone else chimes in. “It’s about time.” 

The supervising teacher calls for silence, the exam finally beginning. 

Mark chances a glance at Donghyuck, only to catch him smiling softly at his empty desk. 

The _something_ between them is still an uncharacterised blob, but it’s definitely starting to take shape.

\-------

Mark blinks, one moment he’s putting the last full stop on his in-class English essay and in the next he’s pulling on his suit for formal. 

His mother drives the whole family to Jaemin’s house for pre-formal photos. The decision for the location is unanimous, as Jaemin has the biggest, nicest place and his parents enjoy entertaining. They’ve catered and everything, the whole event turning into a mini cocktail party for everyone’s parents, who end up distracted enough that Mark’s brother can sneak them all a single shot of tequila while the adults focus on the canapes. 

Suitably tipsy, Mark’s mother drags them all off to take photos in the Na’s vast backyard. Some silly, some serious each one of them contenders for spaces on walls in lounge rooms in their various houses, surrounded by family snapshots and other life events. 

Everyone laughs once the boys arrange themselves into colour order, the pride flag on display around their necks. They understand the meaning, the solidarity. Jaemin’s parents hug them all for their show of dedication and friendship. 

Mark supposes that Jaemin must be out to his family, too, considering their response. 

Donghyuck’s Polaroid camera makes an appearance, too. Selfies with everyone from his classmates to Mark’s brother and even Jaemin’s parents ending up in Donghyuck’s mother’s purse for safekeeping.

Mark’s mother makes sure to get photos of just the two of them. They’re almost couple-like in nature, even the silly ones have them pressed close together. If Mark’s mother notices anything she doesn’t mention it, but she does offer him a sly wink and a nudge with her elbow once Donghyuck’s back is turned. 

It’s over too quickly, from photos and socialising to the sleek black limousine pulling up outside the house, the six boys tumbling in, overzealous and excited. 

The formal is taking place at the Brisbane Convention and Exhibition Centre, which is a solid twenty-minute drive from where they are. Meaning they have plenty of time to hype themselves, get ready for their second last night as official high schoolers. 

They still have graduation to go, happening two days post-formal. Mark suspects that the day of reprieve is to count for the inevitable hangover post-after party which again, is being held at Jaemin’s house. His parents have kindly offered to make themselves scarce for the evening. 

Inside the limousine, Donghyuck boldly takes Mark’s hand in his own, right in front of their friends. The conversation stops once Jaemin notices, promptly pointing the development out to the rest of the group.

“That’s surprising, but not unexpected,” Renjun comments, “I thought it would take Mark longer to come around.” 

“Shut up,” Donghyuck hisses. There’s something there that Mark is missing. 

“Youse are cute,” Jaemin snickers, “look at ya, high school sweethearts and shit.” 

“Are you dating?” Jeno asks point blank. Lucas waves his hand, motioning for them to explain themselves. 

“We’re….” Mark looks between his hand where it's linked with Donhyuck’s and back to his friends. “We’re something.” 

“Undiscussed,” Donghyuck supplies, “but a recent development.” 

Mark can tell that they want to press for answers, but the limousine pulls up at the convention centre at the most opportune moment. Renjun notices, and shoots them a look that clearly implies that the conversation is far from over. 

The doors open and they get ready to make their grand entrance, a bold statement. 

Mark doesn’t let go of Donghyuck’s hand.

\------

Chenle and Jisung turn up with the latter’s parents for the pre (non-alcoholic) drink and canape portion of the formal. As younger students, they’re not allowed in, but they turn up to show their support, anyway. Chenle out dresses most of the cohort in his Gucci cardigan, something most likely worth more than Mark’s entire outfit. 

After more photos, claps on the back from their peers and excited greetings to Lucas, everyone’s ushered into the hall for the main event. 

Renjun’s decorations are stunning; white flowers and balloons, offset by greenery here and there to break up the solid blocks of colour. Small LED candles decorate the tables, with the hall’s lighting lowered for ambience. A photobooth sits at the back of the hall, the front portion occupied by a stage where the DJ they’ve booked will later play and a dance floor big enough for everyone and their dates. 

“Good job,” Jeno places his hand on Renjun’s shoulder, eyesmile on full display. “It looks great.” 

Renjun looks close to tears. 

Their servers are the biggest surprise of the evening. Two well-known BBC alumni approach the table with matching grins, introducing themselves via the names on their swapped nametags. 

“I’m Johnny,” says the boy Mark definitely knows to be Jaehyun. He’s a former school captain from two years prior. 

“And I’m Jaehyun,” says definitely-Johnny, who was Mark’s house captain when he was in year nine, the others in year eight. 

“If you’re drinking tonight, make sure you do it in the bathrooms,” Jaehyun shrugs. Mark can tell they have a whole spiel they’re supposed to deliver before the start of events, and that they’re going completely off script. 

“Or share,” Johnny adds. 

“Smoking area is out and to the left,” Jaehyun continues, “but you’re not supposed to know that.” 

“Definitely not,” Johnny offers them a wink. 

“And finally,” Jaehyun concludes with a flourish, “if you’re allergic to shit, now’s the time to tell us.” 

After confirmation that there are no dietary requirements, they’re left once again to their own devices. The expectation is that they sit and eat but for the most part, everyone’s on their feet and sitting at different tables ready to socialise. Standard procedure where teenagers are involved, no one’s quite willing to stick to schedule. 

Still, everyone seems to appreciate Renjun’s organisational efforts, with the photobooth being the hit of the night. Mark sees people running around with wigs on, oversized sunglasses hanging from the front of their suits, girls taking selfies in front of the decorations. 

When Mark finally remembers to eat, it’s time for dessert. A buffet table at the back of the hall covered with a spread of bite-sized pastries that Donghyuck all but devours. 

“These are _so_ good,” he moans, just loud enough to be heard over the DJ. He’s referring to the half-eaten pistachio macaron in his hand. “Want some?” 

A whole table of uneaten macarons sits before him, but Mark still takes a bite of the sweet that Donghyuck feeds him, his lips brushing the tips of Donghyuck’s fingers ever so slightly. 

He’s visibly flustered, wringing his hands together as he retracts them, fidgeting on the spot. Mark opens his mouth to speak, but is cut short when Donghyuck reaches out, grabs him by the wrist. 

“Dance with me?” he asks, voice breathless and eyes shining. 

Mark laughs. “Sure,” he says. 

And Donghyuck drags him off in the direction of the dancefloor. 

\------

Mark ends up dancing to Top 40 hits he’s never cared about until now. He swaps between an enthusiastic Donghyuck, a silly Yukhei and in between Jaemin and Jeno who seem to be taking everything seriously. 

Renjun flits in and out, torn between his duties in making sure everything runs smoothly and actually enjoying the night he’s slaved so hard over. 

The music dies down as the principal calls for speeches, all of which Mark ignores in favour of playing with Donghyuck’s fingers underneath the table. He’s called to attention as someone drops Renjun’s name as the organisational genius behind the event, hollering and cheering accordingly. 

When the boring part is over and the music resumes, Donghyuck makes the motion for smoking, and Mark pats his breast pocket in confirmation. Hand in hand they follow Jaehyun’s direction to the empty smoker’s area, a large outdoor courtyard in the middle of the centre. 

Hidden away in a corner, just in case one of the teachers comes looking for them, they light up, taking deep inhales, their lungs filled with rebellion. 

“So,” Donghyuck starts, “talking, we should do that.” 

“Yeah,” Mark breathes, “where should we start?” 

“The part where I’ve had a crush on you since the beginning of the year?” 

Around the time when they started hanging out more frequently, where they went past being friends who commute to school using the same transport to people who hang out together at lunch.

“So this is like, a boyfriends thing?” Mark has to ask. It should be clear but Mark wants crystal, clarity, verbal confirmation. 

“Of course it is, you dumbass,” Donghyuck replies. He speaks with finality, doesn’t give Mark room to accidentally twist his words. 

The silence that follows is tense, expectant. Mark steps forward, drops his cigarette, hands preoccupied in cupping Donghyuck’s face. Before he can talk himself out of it, he closes the distance and kisses Donghyuck--- gently, yet firmly. _Finally_. 

He tastes like nicotine and freedom. 

Mark comes out of the ordeal with messy, slightly singed hair and a proud boyfriend clinging to his arm. 

\------

Mark spends the entire afterparty making out with Donghyuck, earning hickeys that he’s glad the collar of his uniform manages to cover. 

It’s graduation, and Mark never has to wear the awful green outfit ever again. 

His mother keeps insisting on photos, another thing he’s glad he won’t see for a while. Not until university graduation, at least. But that’s another three whole camera-free years away. 

The only camera he doesn’t mind is Donghyuck’s trusty Polaroid, which continues to document the early, intimate days of their relationship. A few awkward kissing photos later and Donghyuck is finally learning how to take proper selfies using the device. 

Graduating is as boring as any other school event, with Mark and Donghyuck accepting their diplomas one after the other, their achievements spoke out loud to the cohort as they cross the stage. 

Mark has to control himself as Donghyuck’s acceptance into The Conservatorium is announced, along with his dual degree in primary school education. It’s something only Mark and Donghyuck’s family have known about until now. 

Jaemin’s cheers ring loudest of them all. 

Graduation should feel like the end, but for Mark, it just feels like the beginning. He says his farewells to classmates he may never see again, spends his last moments with his group with their current dynamics. 

Who knows what will change. 

But as Donghyuck kisses him, right in front of their peers, their parents and that one homophobic religion teacher, Mark knows. 

Some things may change. But this, what he has with Donghyuck? 

Well, it can only get better from here.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:  
> \- Donghyuck's English name is Hayden  
> \- My formal date actually wore a green suit and it was AMAZING.  
> \- My QCS prompt was Time and it was: bullshit.
> 
> Talk to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/artikuno)!


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